


You're a monster when you drink (And now I'm picking up the pieces)

by artsyleo



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Ben Mitchell Is An Alcoholic And I Will Fight Eastenders, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Homophobic Language, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Slurs, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22120657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyleo/pseuds/artsyleo
Summary: You'd have to be blind not to notice that Ben drank - a *lot*. Even whilst they'd been together, it was unusual to see him without a bottle of beer in his hand, or an empty shot glass, or at least a slightly drunken swagger, but, like most things in Ben's life, nobody seemed to notice. Maybe it was because Callum had grown up with an alcoholic as a father, but he'd always had an inkling that maybe Ben was a little *too* reliant on alcohol, but he'd been too afraid to say something wrong - he knew it was a sore subject for Ben, because of Phil and his antics, and he desperately hadn't wanted to ruin what they had, and the happiness that they'd found with each other.*Nothing to ruin now*, Callum thought to himself.-Or Eastenders aren't going to recognise Ben's clear alcohol abuse so I'm going to in fic form.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - violence, homophobic attacks, use of the f slur, lots of talk of alcohol abuse, very brief mention of childhood abuse (all Canon compliant) - please don't read if this will trigger you.

It's after Callum's been back from wherever he'd taken himself to for Christmas for a couple days that he first sees Ben. The break had left him with a clearer head - still devastated and heartbroken, but ready to talk some sense into Ben, because whatever was happening, *those words* weren't Ben's. He'd been planning to give it a couple days - just make sure that the emotional hangover from Christmas had fully dissipated - and spend some time with Stuart, but that plan went down the drain the moment Stuart suggested that they go to the Vic for a drink after dinner.

You'd have to be blind not to notice that Ben drank - a *lot*. Even whilst they'd been together, it was unusual to see him without a bottle of beer in his hand, or an empty shot glass, or at least a slightly drunken swagger, but, like most things in Ben's life, nobody seemed to notice. Maybe it was because Callum had grown up with an alcoholic as a father, but he'd always had an inkling that maybe Ben was a little *too* reliant on alcohol, but he'd been too afraid to say something wrong - he knew it was a sore subject for Ben, because of Phil and his antics, and he desperately hadn't wanted to ruin what they had, and the happiness that they'd found with each other.  
*Nothing to ruin now*, Callum thought to himself.

He'd been happy. It was good to be back, drinking and laughing again with Stuart and Rainie in the Vic. They had escaped early to have some 'alone time', leaving Callum to talk to Mick, for the first time in a while. He was just strolling home through the square, a pleasant buzz in his bones, when the sounds of struggle could be heard, just around in an alley. Callum's soldier's instincts soon kicked in, locating the noise quickly in an a street just down from E20. For a moment, the logical, less self-sacrificial side of his brain told him to stop and *think* - this was likely to just be a drunken brawl, something that would end with nothing, really. He was about to turn back to his own bed when he heard laughter that was unmistakable. 

It was Ben's. 

Without another thought, he came round the corner, seeing a single man, almost on top of what was presumably Ben on the street, raining down punches. 

"Hey!" Callum shouted hoping beyond hope that the man would be deterred.  
Unsurprisingly, he wasn't.  
He did, however, stop beating Ben, momentarily, to look up at Callum, who took this opportunity to deck the other man himself. He fell away from Ben onto the other side of the street. Ben, evidently blissfully unaware of the situation and quite possibly blind drunk, just started laughing again, slurring something about 'is that all you've got?' or something to that effect. The other man quickly regained his feet, stumbling slightly but with regeance - and not a small amount of blood - on his face. He seemed to forget about Ben then, who had now begun to stumble to his feet, and charge forward onto Callum.  
"What d'ya think ya doin'?" the man growled.  
"Get. Away. From him," Callum growled back.  
"Why you defendin' that fag, ey?" 

At that, Callum saw red. He swung his fist again to collide with the other man, who fell back. 

"Callum!"  
Shit. 

Jack's voice came from behind him, rushing towards the other man, grabbing hold of him before he could retaliate.  
"What the hell is goin' on with you, Highway?" Jack shouted. Before he had a chance to reply, Ben had stumbled back to his feet, and, evidently blind to the presence of Jack, attempted to swing at the other man before Callum got in the way, taking the brunt of an, albeit weak, punch from Ben, and pulling him away. Ben just looked up at him, confused for a moment, when it seemed to cross through his mind that it was *Callum* stood in front of him, his eyes widening. "Call'm?"  
Jack saw the engagement and sighed.  
"Get him home before he can cause any more trouble." 

-

From then, what should be a 5 minute stroll turned into a twenty minute slog back to Callum's apartment (he decided that neither the Beales' or the Mitchells' would be a good place for Ben in this state, and Stuart was likely asleep by now) what with Ben giggling and throwing up every ten steps - twice on Callum's shoes, not that he was counting. The pair didn't talk till he'd thrown Ben down onto a chair next to the counter, and gone to the bathroom to pour a glass of water and grab his first aid kit. By the time he returned, Ben was up and slouching heavily on the counter, trying his best to yank open a beer bottle with his bare hands. Callum sighed and tore the bottle from his hands, replacing it with the glass.  
"Wha' you doin'? Need a drink," Ben slurred, swiping the glass clean from the counter and lurching towards Callum, who had put the beer, as well as the half empty whiskey bottle that Stuart had stupidly left on the counter, on top of the cabinets, out of reach - this wasn't Callum's first time dealing with an alcoholic.  
"No! D-don' do tha', m'need it!" Ben shouted, his voice quickly raising.  
"No you don't, Ben! Look at the state of ya!" Callum shot back, trying his best to guide Ben back to the chair, to no avail.  
Ben pushed back against him, but Callum was stronger, forcing him back into the chair and holding him there by his shoulders.  
"What are you doin' to yourself, Ben?"  
"M'just lettin' off some steam!" Ben giggled.  
"What, gettin' yourself beaten half to death, gettin' wasted and mouthing off, again?" Ben at least had the decency to look a little ashamed. "You're an alcoholic, Ben! You need help."  
"I am nothin' like tha'! I jus'- need a drink, alrigh'?" Ben shouted in Callum's face.  
"What happened to ya, Ben? We were happy."  
"No! No, *we* weren't, Callum! You were 'appy! Jus' you!" Ben said, distraught clear in his voice. "An' I jus'- need a drink to 'elp me!"  
Callum had nothing to say to that. He felt awful - he hadn't noticed that Ben was in so deep.  
"Just- let me clean you up, alright?"  
Ben was silent from then while Callum cleaned the blood from his face. When Ben was subdued enough, Callum went to dispose of the wipes covered in Ben's blood. By the time he returned, Ben had passed out on the sofa, snoring softly.  
Callum couldn't help but recognise how much younger Ben looked when he slept - the wrinkles dissappeared from around his eyes, the seemingly permanent scowl softened on his face, leaving him looking somewhat content. With a sigh, Callum carefully stripped Ben of his coat and threw a soft blanket over him. 

Later, he fell asleep in the chair opposite Ben, having spent a while just looking him over. He was lost - what was he supposed to do? He only knew that Ben needed help, like proper help, and, even if he had to drag him there himself, by God Callum would make sure he got it - he couldn't bear to watch the man he loved waste himself away, just like his father had.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too many times he had gotten blind drunk of an evening (or early morning) and gone home with a stranger, only to wake up with no clue what he had done the previous night, and no clue who lay next to him. No matter how much guilt lay in his stomach in the morning, it didn't change the vicious cycle every evening, when the guilt was overwhelmed with the need in his chest to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - mentions of violence, sort of implied/ref child abuse and implied alcoholism, but like not too explicit?

Ben was (rudely) awoken, all too early if you ask him, by the sound of a kettle boiling. The next thing that he was aware of, however, was the horrendous pounding in his head, and he let out a small groan, unable to stand making any louder noise. He was certainly not a stranger to a hangover, but this was something else - he'd never gotten a headache this bad purely from alcohol. His neck ached, probably from lying on what he imagined was the Mitchell's sofa, and he could taste the sick on his breath from the previous night. When he did finally build up the willpower to open his eyes, he looked around the room, slightly panicked when he realised that he wasn't at home.  
That left him wracking his brain for what had happened last night. He remembered tearing himself up inside the previous day about the absence that still stung whenever he thought too hard about it - the words that had escaped his mouth just before Christmas that had broken his boyf- Callum's heart, and left his own shattered. He remembered feeling like a child as Lola reprimanded him for his actions - reverting back to his old ways, insisting that no one cared about him, and fighting away anyone that did, as she had said - and walking out of that, feeling like even more of a failure than he had before. Of course, after that, the call of whatever alcohol was cheapest at the Albert had been too loud to ignore, and the rest of the night was a dizzy blur. Too many times he had gotten blind drunk of an evening (or early morning) and gone home with a stranger, only to wake up with no clue what he had done the previous night, and no clue who lay next to him. No matter how much guilt lay in his stomach in the morning, it didn't change the vicious cycle every evening, when the guilt was overwhelmed with the need in his chest to forget.

It was only when he heard voices that he didn't think he could ever forget that the blockade shifted in his mind, and he remembered a little of how he'd got here.

"What, is *he* doin' here?" Stuart's voice rang out from the kitchen, not making any effort to quieten down.

"Oi! Keep it down, will ya? He's still asleep."

Oh god that voice.  
The voice of the man that, despite every denial that came out of his mouth, he had fallen hopelessly in love with.

"Why is he sleepin' on our sofa, Callum? Don't tell me you two-"

"Just can it, will ya? I found 'im on the street, couldn't exactly just leave him there, could I?" Callum sighed. He sounded exasperated with his brother as he pulled two mugs slightly aggressively onto the counter.  
"You don't owe him anythin', bruv, alright? You could've left him there for all I care, after the way he treated you."  
"I wish you'd stop tryin' to defend me! I can look after myself, ya know? I'm not a kid, I know what I'm doin', Stuart."  
"Yeah, but-"  
"Just go! Give 'im some space, if you ain't gonna be helpful."  
Ben quickly shifted on the sofa as Callum came round the corner, pretending as though he hadn't just eavesdropped the entire conversation. The sound of Stuart residing back to his room could be heard as he slammed the door.

"Awake then?"  
Callum's voice was cold as he placed a cup of tea, along with a few paracetamol onto the table, removing a bucket that was inevitably filled with sick from beside Ben's head.  
Ben nodded his head slightly as he sat up slowly and grasped the warm mug like a lifeline, greedily gulping down the paracetamol with a sip of the warm liquid.  
Callum had remembered - not too much milk, plenty of sugar. That in itself - the idea that Callum still seemed to know Ben inside out - stung him just that little bit more. Callum returned, and sat in the chair opposite Ben. He couldn't help but recognise that, however disappointed Callum looked, he was still beautiful, hair unstyled and unkempt, and what looked suspiciously like one of Ben's jumpers hugging his arms.  
The two sat in awkward silence for a minute, before Ben quickly took another sip of tea, willing himself to escape before he screwed this up even more, no matter how much he just wanted to crawl to Callum on his knees, beg for his forgiveness-  
"Well, this was... lovely, but-"  
"You don't remember anythin', do ya?"  
Callum didn't even sound mad - just tired, exasperated with the man in front of him.  
"I don't know if you've ever been drunk, Callum, but-"  
"You were way past drunk, Ben. You were proper wasted, you- you were mouthin' off again, I had to pull this guy off you!"  
Ben averted his gaze at that, trying to avoid the guilt bubbling in his stomach at the bruise that had slowly started to form on Callum's cheek.  
"And- the way you were acting when I got you home, Ben-"  
"Look, whatever I said to ya-"  
"You said you weren't happy, Ben! You told me you weren't, not even when we were together!" Callum stood at that, pleading with Ben, distraught clear on his face. "I can't watch you tear yourself apart Ben, no matter what you've said to me."  
That took Ben a little by surprise - he had been told that alcohol made him an honest man, he just had to hope that he hadn't said anything worse.  
"Look, Callum, I was drunk, alright?" Ben lied as he stood up, still too scared to look Callum directly in the eye. He couldn't ignore the stabbing ache that shot up his back when he stood - he'd have to check for bruises when he got home, to attempt to build up some sort of picture of the previous night's altercation. "People say strange things when they're wasted - don't you worry your pretty little head about it, lover boy," Ben turned away from Callum, finding his coat neatly folded on the counter.  
"Ben, I'm not gonna let you ignore this! I don't care about us, but I don't want you ending up like your dad, and neither does Lexi!" 

Ouch. 

Ben whirled around on Callum then, newfound rage burning inside of him. He took Callum by his collar, bringing their faces close together - it took all of Ben's willpower not to gaze back at his lips. 

"Don't you *dare* bring my daughter into this. I am *nothing* like my dad, and I do *not* need your help." 

With that, Ben stormed out of the door, leaving the rift between them cracking again, and both their hearts a little worse for wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god please don't kill me for this.  
> I couldn't think of a way to resolve it realistically with a fluffy ending so it had to be angst (also this comes directly after the first one so like it doesn't fit with canon oop)  
> Enjoy from ya boi leo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pissed that Eastenders won't give Ben an alcoholism storyline bc they've just given one to Linda (I'm not knocking that storyline but still) even though it would fit Ben's character arc and the inevitable breakdown that's coming after the Keanu incident so perfectly so I decided to write it myself (I might write a morning after addition to this???). 
> 
> Also channeling dysphoric feels into writing works??? Woop. Enjoy bitches. 
> 
> Leo


End file.
